


True Companions

by Sky_kiss



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Are Painfully Oblivious, Extended Scene, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Look gabenath had a terrible day and they deserve a chill moment, Spoilers for S2 finale, The Agreste Men, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 21:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16525148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sky_kiss/pseuds/Sky_kiss
Summary: Nathalie had taken the Peacock Miraculous despite his warnings. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to make her understand.  His life didn’t matter. Without Emilie, his life wasforfeit. Nathalie was different. She had worth, value. She was precious.





	True Companions

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops. I'm supposed to be doing Nanowrimo. But. Just...Gabriel and Nathalie needed a little softness. And I wanted to contribute a little something to soothe our collective hurt.

Panic was not an emotion Gabriel Agreste experienced often. 

He could list every occurence with striking clarity: the moment he asked Emilie to marry him. The day she had gone into labor. That final ride to the hospital before his wife had slipped away from him…

And _now_. Nathalie had taken the Peacock Miraculous despite his warnings, despite knowing the cost. It had not stopped the fool creature from her absurd plan. Gabriel let out a shuddering breath. The half light of his lair, typically soothing, was now oppressive. The elegant, curving, lines of the singular window left equally elegant shadows. They curled across the floor, folding around his assistant’s body with a lover’s care. The artist in him could appreciate the beauty. It bled seamlessly into his horror.

Gabriel closed the distance between them in a bound, tugging at her shoulder. It was odd how in these moments, severe as they were, he could recall the smallest details about her appearance. The omnipresent flush of color in her cheeks; the redness of her lips. All of it had been replaced by a monotony of _white_. 

“Nathalie,” he turned her head to the side, checking for bruises. There’d been no outward damage at the very least. It did nothing to calm his nerves. Gabriel tapped her cheek, “Nathalie, focus on the sound of my voice.” 

She groaned. A relieved chucked escaped him. Gabriel nodded to the empty lair, stroking the back of his fingers along her cheek. The motion was so second nature, a hold over from the earlier days of his marriage and Adrien’s younger years, that he barely thought of it. Nathalie turned into the touch, blinking. There was a drugged quality to her stare, eyes flitting from the window, to the ceiling, before finally settling on his face, “Sir?” Her touch strayed to the lapel of her jacket, absently stroking the Miraculous, “It was a success, then. You made it out.” 

She was so achingly _pale_. Nathalie pushed herself up on one hand. His assistant winced, a violent shiver chasing through her body. He watched, powerless, numb, as she shifted away from him. Nathalie brought her knees up towards her chest, curling in on herself as she coughed. They were gentle at first, hidden in the sleeve of her blazer, before her irritated lungs reacted in earnest. 

For the second time of the afternoon, Gabriel Agreste felt panic. A jealous desperation coiled in his gut, childish and ill suited for a man of his station. It was happening again. A repetition of the same hurts; the same loss. Gabriel gathered her in his arms, curling his larger body around her. He focused on his breathing. In and out; slow and even. Nathalie turned her face into his jacket. Breathing through the fabric helped; the heated air soothed her lungs. 

“Gabriel?” Her voice was soft, timid and unlike her. 

He shook his head, hooking one arm around her ribs, the other under her knee. While not a short woman, Nathalie was slender. Lifting her was barely an afterthought. She made a small noise of protest, one of her arms curling around the back of his neck to steady herself. In any other situation he might have allowed himself to linger on how comfortable their proximity was; that even after spending an afternoon in the lair she still had a pleasantly clean, crisp, entirely _Nathalie_ scent to her. These observations were subsumed in favor of his guilt and, more pressingly, his frustrations, “You require medical attention.” 

She might have smiled. He had no way of knowing. All that mattered was getting her away from this place. Her free hand smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from the lapel of his jacket, “It’s only a cough.” 

“Then we should consider ourselves _lucky_. It might have been worse…” 

“...but it wasn’t, was it?” 

He scowled. 

A pregnant silence stretched between them, broken twice by Nathalie’s gentle coughs. Gabriel’s fingers dug into her ribs. He found himself clutching her tighter every time she shook. Nathalie didn’t protest. She glanced up at him once, expressive pensive, before turning her nose into his clavicle. 

Short sighted, foolish, maddening woman…

He helped her into one of the office chairs before moving to kneel in front of her, voice sharper than he’d intended, “I told you. Never use the Peacock Miraculous.”

She coughed. Her expression was pained. It was not, however, repentant, “I didn’t have a choice, sir. I had to save you.”

“It is damaged. It is too _dangerous_.” 

He wanted to shake her. He wanted to make her understand. His life didn’t matter. Without Emilie his life was _forfeit_. Nathalie was different. She had worth, value. She was precious. She curled her fingers, nails biting into the arm of her chair, “I want to help you. Whatever the price.”

Spending years in each other’s company was a double edged sword. It meant he knew how to translate each of her microexpressions. It meant she knew how to anticipate his every move. It meant they worked together with an at times ruthless efficiency... 

...it meant he understood the sheer weight, the naked trust, that undercut her offer. They were neither of them selfless. They preferred their walls. Nathalie stared at him, guileless and sincere, offering her life if that was what it took. 

It was instinct to take her hand. Hours later, he would ponder the particular warmth of her skin, almost feverish. It was not unpleasant. Nathalie smiled. A moment later, she coughed.

Gabriel’s voice was soft, “Never again, Nathalie. Promise me: you will not use the miraculous again.”

“I can’t do that, sir.” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Nathalie.” 

“I might suggest staying out of situations where my intervention would prove necessary. _If_ you are concerned.” 

She was teasing him. Gabriel rocked back on his heels, observing her more carefully. Some of her color had returned. A gentle shade of pink tracing elegant cheekbones. It suited her. Color suited her. Gabriel sighed, “I will take that under consideration.” He was still holding her hand. He smoothed his thumb along the inside of her wrist, “You are certain you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Gabriel. I promise.” 

Nathalie smiled. Nathalie lied. He was too tired and too selfish to argue. 

He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her knuckles, “Good. Good. I would prefer you stay a while longer. To observe any potential side effects... “ 

“Of course, Mister Agreste.” 

The full force of his exhaustion was starting to settle in. Too tired to move, Gabriel seated himself on the floor, leaning back against the chair. His left side fetched against his assistant’s knees. Her purely human warmth bled through the fabric of his suit. He found himself longing for it, needing that grounding element, that comfort. 

Despite his better judgement, he shifted, resting his head against her leg, just above the knee. Nathalie stiffened. The muscles in her thigh pulled taut before they relaxed. He traced the back of her achilles. She threaded fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. 

Today was a failure. Today had symbolized a new low. 

They would make it through this. Together, they would emerge all the stronger. 

He forced himself to ignore her cough.


End file.
